Dr. Horton agreed readily enough and left with them on what was a strained journey, Greene maintaining the same irritating, high spirits, Brown trying to convince himself his hangover was getting better and Archie Horton sunk into a reverie that saw the miles fly by, without him seeming aware of his surroundings.
* * *
Archie was used to death, but there was still something about this particular type of death that threw him as there was something about walking into the morgue not quite sure of the state of the corpse. Drowning was potentially one of the most disfiguring of deaths and so he tried to prepare himself, his mind trying to figure out exactly when the woman was supposed to have come to Brighton. He’d no idea how long she had been in the water.
To his intense relief, it hadn’t been long. Maybe someone had seen her go in and the alert had been put out straight away. Her hair was still damp and her colour was pale and grey with a blue tinge, but there was no oedema and not a visible mark on her.
He looked at her properly once the initial spasm of shock—it always came, even if you were sure you had the right person—passed. It looked like her, but at the same time it didn’t look like her. How guarded she had always been. Now, that cold, off-putting look was gone and he could see remnants of what once must have been a good-looking woman.
Greene formally identified Esther Kirk. “We’ll need to see her medical notes.”
Archie Horton stared at Greene as a host of thoughts flashed through his mind. He’d only re-read the notes himself last night when he’d discovered the woman hadn’t returned from Brighton and his aunt had had a visit from the police. What he read had fascinated and saddened him and he’d begun to understand why she might have hated him enough to try to damage his practice and his name—particularly his name.
“I thought, or at least the rumour was that she’d run away with Braithwaite,” said Archie as they journeyed north. A post-mortem was due to take place, but in the light of the note and what they’d learned about the background of Esther Kirk, the verdict of suicide was almost a foregone conclusion.
“So, you never noticed any form of intimacy between Miss Kirk and Braithwaite on any of your visits to the Butler house.”
Archie racked his brains. But, eventually he shook his head. “Absolutely not, Inspector, but I’m not saying that I’m the best person to ask, I saw very little of what went on behind the scenes. I did see quite a bit of Esther Kirk, and once or twice as a patient, just for minor ailments. I gave her instructions too, about Mrs. Butler, about her medicines and so on. She appeared to listen to me, and I suppose she was, a conscientious companion. But, there was never anything personal—no warmth at all, to me at least. I put it down to her general character, but maybe I was wrong. It was more personal than that, wasn’t it, according to the note?” Greene seemed to batten his body down into the collar of his coat and opened his bright eyes a bit more. “Note, hmmm, the ramblings of a disturbed mind, perhaps. I wouldn’t maybe take it too much to heart, doc.”
Archie remained silent. He couldn’t agree. The note had been a bit more direct and personal and less rambling than that to his mind. The woman had felt a great wrong had once been done to her, and he couldn’t help agreeing with her. To her and how many more women down through the years?
He shivered, feeling the cold that made the inspector hunker into his great coat. This was close to home and he couldn’t avoid comparisons. His own sister had been, well maybe, not confined, but sent to a mental hospital, too, when she’d stepped out of line and embarrassed people, most particularly him.
He’d met many poor souls in various states of mental distress in his career, from young men suffering terrible flashbacks because of trench warfare and gas attack, to older patients who seemed to be suffering from dementia of the elderly. But, strangely enough, he hadn’t noticed it in the Kirk woman. Or had he ever really looked or listened to her? Had she been just another odd spinster? What sort of a doctor was he? He looked out the window at the darkening countryside. This was no time for self-pity and soul-searching. It was time to get back to Ellbeck and to try to make amends as best he could to his sister and to the others he had been less than sympathetic toward.
Chapter 25
Hannah Braithwaite was a good worker, the type of person, who didn’t make heavy weather of whatever task she was doing. She was efficient and sparing, not wasting energy, and usually, not wasting words either. So, for the first hour or so, they had worked quietly together.
Edith had looked around the attic and not only the attic, in a sort of despairing hopelessness, several times since returning home. She was Dr. Uxbridge would have something to say about it. For some reason, clutter, disorder, and junk she’d been able to turn a blind eye to before, bothered her. This was possibly a bit out of proportion, but the best way of dealing with this feeling was to make hay while the sun shone and actually get on with the task of sorting things out.
It wasn’t as though the house was particularly untidy. Mrs. Braithwaite saw to that. But so much stuff had been brought with both herself and Archie and just left in cardboard boxes, trunks, and suitcases to be sorted out. It was high time she at least made a start on it and the beauty of having someone else help, was that you didn’t keep stopping every five minutes to read old letters and cards or look at photographs.
Archie had left a note, saying that he’d been called away, would be away all day and not to worry, he’d be in touch. She didn’t particularly worry, but it was thoughtful of him to leave the note.
It had been a good visit to St Bride’s yesterday, if you could ever say such a thing about a place like that. But, some of the associations had weakened for her, just from walking through the corridors as an outpatient. The feeling that the walls held the impression of pain and blighted lives was not so strong. It was true but could you not say the same about many places?
And wasn’t the word asylum meant to be a place of safety? Maybe, St Bride’s had been that for some people—a better, safer place than the world outside. She’d looked back at the façade of the hospital, at the clock tower and the cricket pitch beyond, imagined the gardens that lay behind the buildings and let go of something. It was a place; that was all. A place she’d needed to be for a time in her life and she had a strong feeling it was a place she would only visit again.
“Would you say the church jumble, Miss Edith?”
Hannah’s voice broke into her thoughts and she held up a navy blue dress with white piping. It was in pristine condition, had been stored against the moths and mildew. Edith smiled. That was typical of her mother.
“I think so, don’t you? Maybe if we make a pile on top of the cupboard, I can transfer them to my own bedroom and pass the whole lot on to Henry? There’s bound to be some form of sale looming.”
She cast a glance at Hannah Braithwaite and wondered how she was coping with the fact her husband had left and even worse, with the gossip. She would like to ask, but she couldn’t. She’d become particularly sensitive to anything that might be construed as gossip. Perish the thought. Hannah might even think she had deliberately got her up here, working with her so she could quiz her. No, she would say nothing, just carry on as normal.
“You’re bound to have heard the talk, Miss Edith?” said Mrs. Braithwaite as if she’d seen right into her mind.
Edith looked at the other woman shook her head and then told herself not to be stupid. “Well, up to a point. I’ll try to avoid the talk, having been the main subject of it myself for the past months.”
“He would never have gone off with her, you know—that Kirk woman. I said the same to that police inspector. The thing about Joshua is that he does believe in that saying about a rolling stone gathering no moss…”
“I suppose it’s just the fact that she didn’t come back from where she went for the break and he disappeared and they both worked for Mrs. Butler and people began to put two and two together and made half-a-dozen. But, you know him best.”
“I�
��m not saying that he wouldn’t have strung the poor creature along. That would be his style. You might think I’m a terrible woman talking like this, Miss Edith, but if there was to be something in it for Josh then he would play up to the poor soul, make her think her knight in shining armour ‘ad come along.”
“But, it is difficult to see why. I mean what could she have had that he wanted, or why would he want to get in with her, as it were?”
“He was…is my husband, Miss Horton, but I wouldn’t put a lot past him. He were always a rogue, out for the main chance. When I first met him, that were, I suppose it was exciting. That bit of recklessness, completely different from what I was used to. But, my aunt, she didn’t like him a bit. She could see what I was too young and stupid to realise. I suppose that were why she took the step of leaving me the cottage, in my own name, like. Manys the time I’ve thanked God for that. She couldn’t have done a better thing for me, could she?”
Edith nodded her agreement. “Do you expect him to come back?”
“No, at least not for a long time. Not ‘til dust settles, any road. The police are looking for him. Naturally. They can follow him as far as London, through him being seen on the train, and getting off too. But after that, well…it wouldn’t be any trouble at all to Joshua to go missing, disappear into the crowd and he had money. Our Cathy knew about it, a pile of notes he’d stashed away in an envelope, but she didn’t dare to tell me after he warned her to keep quiet.
“You don’t know where he came by it?”
“No, the first I knew about it was when Cathy said. But, I’d bet my wages it were by nefarious means. If he were leading that poor Kirk woman on at all, mark my words, Miss Horton, money will be at the back of it. She was left money, wasn’t she, by poor Mrs. Butler.”
“Yes,” Edith hesitated, but somehow couldn’t help the question slipping out. “Do you think he could have had anything to do with Mrs. Butler’s death? I mean the police seem pretty sure it was because of too much medicine, heart medicine. Could they have done it together, do you think?”
There. The question was out and she hoped it didn’t sound too prurient. There was a minute when she seriously regretted the question, when there was no response from the other woman.
Then Hannah’s eyes met hers.
“I honestly can’t say how far he’d go. He’s not a violent sort. Well, he were a soldier and all that entailed, I suppose. But, in the ordinary way of things, no, I don’t think so. But if he were under enough pressure, desperate like, maybe he would be capable of it. He doesn’t seem to think like the rest of us, somehow. It’s only since he came back, I’ve seen it. Maybe it was the war, or maybe it were prison. But he just doesn’t seem to have much of a conscience, you might say. I were watching him as he went. Well, it were a shock. But, I watched him, with the kids, Cathy…I mean, John were upstairs…just to see, you know, whether there was any feeling, and either there isn’t, or he can hide it very well.”
Chapter 26
“Do you realise it’s almost one o’clock?”
“No, though I thought it was late. I’ve had a bit too much to drink too.”
“Ease up on yourself, Edith. It doesn’t matter. You’ve had a hell of a time of it and you’ve had a shock, too, well we all have.”
She shook her head and said for what must have been the fiftieth time, “I can’t believe it. The poor woman. I know she did bad things, but how do we know what tortures she’d been through—what was in her mind…to walk into the sea, like that…”
She shuddered, and felt, for a moment she would never be able to sleep again, without seeing Esther Kirk’s face in front of her, that image of her making that lonely walk down into the sea “It was such a sad, lonely thing to do. If only she had gone to someone…”
“Suicide is always like that, leaves a terrible legacy, too many whys and if onlys. But in a way, Edith, I can’t agree with you. Somehow, you see, in her situation, it doesn’t necessarily seem the worst thing. The worst thing, by far, would have been if she had been confined again somewhere.”
“But, would she have been? Aren’t we jumping to conclusions?”
“I honestly don’t think so, no. I have re-read her notes, and now the damage is done, as it were, and she is dead, Greene was much more forthcoming. She had a baby and a breakdown, spent many years in a mental hospital. A new psychiatrist came along, got to know her, assessed her again, and she was released.”
“The wrong decision, in this case.”
Archie shrugged. “She’s been managing all right for years, as far as we know. Maybe, she deserved the chance.”
“I wonder what tipped her over the edge, started it all up again.
Archie didn’t hesitate. “It was something to do with me. I was there spending time, too much time she probably thought, with Mrs. Butler. It brought it all back.”
“Archie, this is not making sense, not at all. Why now? And more to the point, why you?”
“Because of dad. Didn’t have a lot of time for this sort of thing, did he? He played a big part in the baby being taken away, in her being committed to a mental hospital. I share his name. They tell me I look like him and I am a doctor. It was bound to have stirred up bad memories.”
Edith shivered and bent to poke at the fire. She still wasn’t a hundred percent convinced of Archie’s theory. Something else must have made Esther begin sending letters and poison Elizabeth Butler.
She couldn’t stop thinking about Aunt Alicia, now asleep upstairs in the big spare room. She’d been reluctant to come for the night. It had taken some persuading from both her niece and nephew, and had only eventually concurred on the proviso she be driven home in the morning.
“I can’t possibly leave my house, Edith, Archie. I don’t want to leave. I’ll come and stay with you both tonight. This whole business has been a shock. The poor, poor woman, though. But, I’m not nervous of being on my own and I’m not going to start living in fear.”
Though Edith could see how adamant her aunt was and had to respect her wishes, this would need to be faced head on at some point. She just couldn’t continue living on her own out there. At the very least, she would have to advertise for another housekeeper cum companion, but that wasn’t going to be easy, given her most recent experience.
Edith had been surprised at her strength of feeling about staying in her own home. It seemed to put paid to any tentative unvoiced idea, Edith might have entertained about Aunt Alicia moving in with them.
Straight after breakfast, Edith drove her aunt home. She had decided to have a drink with her aunt then call on Julia. Giles would be safely gone to work and she was determined to give at least a fraction of the support Julia needed. Julia had visited St. Bride’s several times, not the easiest thing to do, especially as she was fighting her own battles at home. Edith was going to be the best friend she could in this time of need. But, Julia was rushing out the door, literally, her cheeks flushed and looking absolutely lovely in an emerald green costume with a small fur collar and a brown beret parked on the red hair.
“Julia, you look very nice. Are you off somewhere exciting?”
Julia smiled. “Not exactly, no. Mind you the way my life has been lately, maybe meeting with the hospital almoner could be classed as exciting.”
“Oh, you are going to go ahead with your volunteering. Good for you, you certainly haven’t let the grass grow under your feet.
Julia smiled her old big smile. “You know me, no sooner said, than done. But, look, you came round for a chat. Come with me, in the car. You could even join me! Do hospital work, too. There’s an idea. It would be like the old days.”
But Edith shook her head. “I can’t, not now. Look at the state of me, for one thing. The almoner wouldn’t countenance me, looking like this—one step up from gardening clothes. Mrs. Braithwaite and I are planning to continue our big clear out again today. It’s doing me good and I can’t help thinking it might be taking her mind off her troubles. Well a bit, anyway, thou
gh inevitably, it tends to be our main topic of conversation. Archie and I sat into the night last night discussing poor Esther Kirk. You’ll have heard?”
Julia nodded, her smile disappearing. “Yes, awful. Poor, wretched woman.
They both looked at each other, soberly. Both started to speak, but Edith gestured for Julia to continue.
“That near—accident I had the other day?”
Edith nodded.
“I can’t stop thinking about it. It did jolt me, you know. Edith. For a split second I thought I was a goner, and the foremost thing in my mind was not Giles’s betrayal, but wanting to live, wanting to see my children, you, my parents.”
“Me too, to some extent, I suppose. No children but, I wanted to get out of St. Bride’s and come home. Maybe this clear out will do some good. A new beginning and all that. But, Jules, go. Telephone me and let me know how you get on. I would imagine they’ll snatch your hand off, especially looking as well as you do.
Julia grinned and waved as Edith got into her motor.
She and Mrs. Braithwaite had hit their stride now and already the attic looked like a different place. “Would Cathy like these?” Edith indicated a stack of penguin books.
“You couldn’t give her anything better, Miss Edith—always has her head stuck in a book, not that I’m complaining. At least it’s not boys, make-up and dances, though I’m sure that’s all to come.”
Chapter 27
Cathy felt guilty at how much better coming home from work was, now that her father and his moods were no longer there, spoiling the atmosphere. Surely, it was wrong to feel like this? I should be worried about him out there with the police after him, no friends, nowhere to call home.
She remembered him telling her to be a good girl and tried and tried to dredge up some emotion. Then, all of a sudden, she did feel sad. Sad it was like this. She knew it shouldn’t be. No matter how poor a father he’d been to them, she should feel genuine concern and love for him, and the absence of that was a shame. She wondered about John. He rarely talked about anything like that…feelings, his own in particular. But, she’d heard him grinding his teeth at night and had seen the eczema on the back of his hands.
Treated as Murder Page 21
